The House

Chapter One

Before you start reading my book THE HOUSE, please be reminded of the following:

1. I do not allow translations in this story in any language without my permission.

2. Do not copy this story and do not post this in any websites.

3. This book is a work of fiction set in non-fictional settings. All character names and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or events is entirely coincidental.

4. The UPLOADING, SCANNING and DISTRIBUTION of this book in any form or by any means - including but not limited to electronic mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise-without the permission of the author is ILLEGAL and PUNISHABLE BY LAW.

Enjoy

M L Jones

Llyn Alwen, a small natural lake about five kilometers long, sat upon Denbigh Moors in North Wales. Large conifer forests surrounded its shores. On a sunny day, the lake would sparkle like an oddly shaped emerald, casting out its ocean-blue rays into the world, the surface of the water undisturbed. Today, however, it was not a sunny day. It was gloomy, the rain freckling down from above. For the Moore family, it was not the best weather to start off their lives at their new family home.

The Moores were a normal-size family. Raine Moore was the eldest child, being eight. She had long, wavy blond hair, with an adorable, cheeky smile that could make her father's knees weaken every time he saw it. She had chocolate-brown eyes inherited from her father. Ivy Moore was the baby of the family. She was four. She had shoulder-length brown hair that lay straight. Her best features, however, were her blue eyes, like a perfect summer sky; you could often catch her mother staring into them.

Douglas Moore, in his own words, was the head of the household, an assertion that was heavily disputed. Doug and his wife, Joanne, would squabble most weeks about this. Doug would stand in the kitchen, pushing out his chest importantly. "I'm the boss of this house. I wear the trousers," he would say, pride oozing from him.

"I let you think you're the boss, but really I'm the one driving," she would joke, which in turn would start off a twenty-minute debate.

Doug was a simple man. If he were asked to describe himself, he would say he was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky type of guy. Doug was only thirty-three with a stocky but not athletic figure. He kept his appearance simple too; he would only wear casual clothes and kept his dark-brown hair short to the sides with a bit of length on top.

Joanne Moore, on the other hand, was a different kettle of fish. She had to look good. She would obsess in the mornings, spending most of her time applying makeup to cover her naturally pale complexion. She had strawberry-blond hair that flowed down, clinging to the curves in her slim physique. Joanne hated her hair. It would never stay straight and was always, in her words, "curly and messy."

The Moores seemed to be your average family on the surface, with Joanne working as a receptionist for a local dental surgery office in the small town of Denbigh, a short fifteen miles away from their new home. However, appearances can be deceiving. Doug had recently been let go from his job at the bank, where he worked as the manager. The strain that losing his job had put on the family was immense. It caused frequent arguments, which left the children crying themselves to sleep most nights.

But that wasn't the whole of it. The issues facing him had turned Doug to alcohol. The alcohol had consumed him. Most days he would be drunk, lying around their previous two-bedroom terrace house within a run-down housing estate. However, "the incident," as Doug and Joanne called it, had changed their lives for good, forcing them to look for a home elsewhere. They put their house up for sale and could not believe their luck when they found their new home situated by the shores of Llyn Alwen.